


Bringing Home a Boy

by mother_finch



Series: Dinner with an Ex-Spy (Loose Continuation) Series [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Shoot Prompt- Gen stays with Root and Shaw now any chance she gets, and they have taken on the role of sorta-mothers to Gen nicely. Gen does get exasperated sometimes because Shaw and Root are not normal people with normal lives. One day Gen tells them that she is going to bring over one of her friends, a boy. When they walk in the door, they see Shaw sitting on the couch cleaning her sniper rifle while her wife is fiddling with her favorite taser. Needless to say, the boy gets the message.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bringing Home a Boy

A thin beam of sunlight trickles in past the drawn blinds, splashing against Root's hair and lighting it a magnificent bronze. Shaw watches her pale face as she lays on her side, head resting against her arm as she listens to the sound of morning and Root's slow, steady breaths. Shaw, barely able to suppress a tired yawn, arches her back to free herself from sleep, Root's arm sliding lightly down her waist in the process. The small shift is enough for Root's coffee eyes to flutter open, the sunlight reflecting flecks of gold within them. Upon seeing Shaw's face, she gives a sleep-ridden smile.

"Morning, Sweetie," Root mumbles, fingers beginning to trace lazy circles on the small of Shaw's back. Shaw's eyes look her over slowly, face not revealing anything as her gaze gradually returns to Root's face. "What do you say to calling out of work today?" With this, Shaw's stoic disposition falters, and she cracks an amused half smile.

"I don't think our boss would let that happen," Shaw murmurs in reply, eyes warm as they take in Root. With the covers over them and the softness of the pillow under her head and Root only inches away- it is tempting to remain like this forever. Root's bottom lip protrudes in thought, eyes narrowing with play.

"Maybe I could talk to Her; request a sick day," Root replies, voice muffled with the last tendrils of sleep, eyes closing for a moment.

"Tell me how that works out for you," Shaw responds with a smile in her voice, yet doesn't make a show of getting up. Instead, she brings her left hand to the side of Root's face, pushing back a few strands of her hair before Root places her free hand over Shaw's, eyes flickering back open. Laying here, Shaw realizes just how much she enjoys the days like this one. The days where they linger here, and where she listens to Root conspire to stay home, knowing full well they'd both grow far too restless without a number to oversee.

* * *

 

Shaw drinks Root in, trying to find something to say, but drawing a blank nonetheless. So, without a word, Shaw pulls herself in, fingers curling against Root's hair as Shaw presses her lips softly to Root's. A honey-sweet warmth spreads from her mouth to her cheeks and throat, slowly but surely invading every part of her; she welcomes it without resistance.

 _'KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK'_ on the door.

Each sharp hit jabs into Shaw's skull like a syringe, and she draws back the slightest bit, eyes pressed together tightly with agitation. She stops- listens- and with every breath of Root's that brushes against her skin, she loses her aggression.

"Do you wanna get that, or should I?" Root asks with a humorous affection in her voice. Shaw utters a tired grunt.

"They'll go away," Shaw mutters back, lips already back to Root's.

 _'KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK'_ on the door.

This time, it's Root who pulls back, dazzling eyes setting on Shaw.

"It must be pretty _urgent_ ," Root comments, eyes glinting jovially at the sight of Shaw's disapproving sneer.

"They'll. Go. _Away_." Shaw repeats, trailing her fingers down Root's jawline towards her collar; Root shudders at the touch, smile tugging onto her face. _I know we can't stay here all day_ , Shaw thinks to herself, fingers still dancing softly against Root's skin, _but another half hour or so couldn't hurt._

Root's fingertips press against Shaw's back, pulling her ever closer, eyes flickering with dangerous thoughts Shaw can't wait to be voiced. _Just an hour or so..._

The bedroom door slides open with a creak, instantly kicking Shaw's instincts into gear. Rolling over swiftly, she grabs the handgun from the nightstand, aiming it directly for-

" _Gen?_ " Shaw asks curiously, peering at the girl over the barrel of her gun. Her usually frizzy, red hair is uncharacteristically straight, and a burgundy headband rests atop her head. She clutches a backpack in one hand, the other still on the doorknob, frozen in place so solidly that even her unstarched school uniform doesn't dare move. Her blue eyes are wide, but there is no fear in them.

"Oh. My. _God_." Genrika Zhirova all but squeals, gawking at the pair. "The last time I was here, you guys weren't even _living_ together. Are you now? Why didn't you answer the door? Never mind, I know _why_ , is the guest room still-"

"What are you doing here?" Shaw asks, voice not harsh but exasperated as she places the gun back on the tabletop. _She needs to be more careful_ , Shaw sighs to herself. _She could've been shot_.

"Summer break," Gen replies simply, shrugging her shoulders. Something clicks within Shaw, and her eyes grow agitated.

"How the hell did you even get _in_ here?" Shaw asks, bafflement apparent.

"Picked the lock."

"Where'd you learn _that?_ " Gen doesn't answer, but her eyes tellingly glide to Root and back. Clenching her jaw, Shaw flicks her gaze angrily Root's way, only to see the amused smile on her face as she peers at Gen. Then, feeling Shaw's eyes searing her skin, the doting gaze becomes Shaw's.

"What?" Root asks with light hearted defensiveness. "It's an important life skill." Rolling her eyes, Shaw directs her attention back to the thirteen year old in front of them; it's surprisingly difficult for Shaw to maintain her anger.

"Give us a minute," Shaw tells her at last with a sigh. "We'll be right out." With this, the girl's face grows a devilish grin.

"Take your time; take _your time_ ," Gen responds, wiggling her eyebrows Shaw's way. Taken aback by the comment, Shaw is barely able to hold back a smile. Grabbing her pillow, Shaw throws it Gen's way; it merely smacks into the door with a soft thud as Gen closes the door in retreat.

_______ \ If Your Number's Up /______

"Any plans for the summer?" Shaw asks over the sizzle of eggs cooking in a pan and the crisp pop of bacon.

"Not really," Gen responds, standing at her side before the counter. Gen's grown in the few months since they'd last seen each other- they are eye to eye now. "Can I stay with you guys? Here?" She asks, putting on her best pair of doe eyes. Shaw keeps her face unreadable, withholding a response although she doesn't have to think about the answer at all.

"Of course you can," Root answers instead, wrapping her arms around Gen from behind with a hug. "It's good seeing you again."

"You too," Gen replies, relishing the hug for a moment more before drawing back, turning to Root with a triumphant glint in her eyes. "So the two of you _do_ live together now, _don't_ you?" She asks, although it seems she already knows. "Shaw has more than one pair of shoes at the front door, and the medal I gave her is on the nightstand, so she _definitely_ lives here now." Root peers over the young girl's head with eyes on Shaw, who narrows her own. With a disbelieving shake of the head, Shaw slides the contents of the pan onto a plate.

"Stop being so observant and eat your breakfast," Shaw commands with a small smile, handing the dish to Gen. Shaw watches her walk towards the dining room table, all the while Root slides in close to her side. Leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, Root peers at Shaw, watching her cook up the next plate.

"Should I call Harold?" Root asks in a low voice passed only between them. "Let him know we have company?" Shaw shakes her head, eyes focused down at the bubbling eggs.

"We still have numbers to save and identities to maintain," Shaw tells her absently, pushing the food onto a plate. A pause. "Gen will be fine staying here if we're not home."

"I don't doubt _that_ ," Root responds with a smile, picking up the plate. "But wouldn't you like to spend some _time_ with her?" Shaw turns off the stove, then turns her eyes up at Root. _Yes_ , Shaw thinks to herself, remembering the young girl she'd helped rescue years ago. For years, there was no connection between them, until Gen found her on a city street a few months ago. Shaw had to admit, if only to herself, it was nice to see her again, and she wouldn't mind seeing the kid more often. Still, with that being said, she has no idea how to explain such a feeling, especially considering _'vacation'_ was never a word to roll freely off her tongue.

"We have a whole summer," Shaw merely replies with a dispassionate shrug, heading for the dining room. Pulling out a chair across from Gen, Shaw barely has enough time to sit before the young girl's words spill into the room.

"Do you know how to play soccer?" Gen asks, her, shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth. "I have to practice for when the season starts."

"Joined the school's team?" Shaw questions, and Gen nods.

"Defense," Gen responds. "So can you play?"

"I haven't in a while, but I think I can manage," Shaw tells her, eyes warming at the ecstatic grin that brighten's Gen's entire face.

"What about you, Root?" Shaw turns to her, watching Root as she freezes, fork halfway to her mouth, eyes scanning back and forth between the two. She licks her lips.

"Never played," Root answers at last, to the astonished dropping of Gen's jaw.

"You've never played _soccer?_ " Gen echoes in disbelief. "Not even when you were _little_? Were you even on a _community_ team when you were a kid-"

"We'll practice playing later," Shaw interrupts her softly, giving Gen an affirmative tip of her head. Her eyes glide to Root. "All three of us." Root's grateful eyes flash with surprise, then a small smile lazily lightens her features.

"Root, trust me," Gen says adamantly, "it'll be _so_ much fun. Guess what else," she continues, each word fighting to leave her mouth first, "I finally got my computer privileges back."

"Are you going to be more careful with spying this time?" Root asks.

"Or maybe not _spy_ at _all?_ " Shaw spits in addition, daggers in her eyes as she peers at Root's smug face. Before an answer is given; however, two phones go off at nearly the same time. Root checks her cell quickly, and Gen does the same.

"I gotta go," Gen mumbles listlessly, finishing the last piece of bacon on her plate and standing. "I'm supposed to be meeting some friends."

"Where'd you get the phone?" Shaw asks, eyeing it thoroughly.

"They sell 'em on almost every corner around here," Gen replies simply, and Shaw rolls her eyes. _She's thirteen and already has her first burner. Great._

"Right the number on something before you go," Shaw tells her, voice rising as Gen back tracks through the house. "Don't you want to get changed or something?" Shaw yells into the other room, hearing the dishes rattle in the sink.

"I'll do that later," Gen calls back. "Bye Shaw! Root!" The door opens; shuts. _She'll be picking that again later,_ Shaw grumbles to herself as Root stands.

"We have an urgent number; Harold's waiting for us at the station," Root informs her, waggling her cell in front of Shaw before stowing it in her back pocket. Getting up and going to toss her plate in the sink, Shaw grabs a post it note with nine digits on it, stuffing it into her pocket before following Root out the door.

___________\ We'll Find You /_________

"I think it's good that she's going out with other kids from school," Root says between gunshots, ducking behind a dumpster as the firefight is returned to her, bright sparks skittering past her vision.

"It wasn't so long ago, people were trying to _kill_ her on these streets," Shaw remarks, swinging around the side of the container and firing off a few rounds. A man in a crisp suit drops, hands clasping his knees. Shaw can feel the sweat breaking on her brow, her heart rate elevated and breathing increasingly labored. She relishes the sensation, and wants more than anything for this talk to take place at a different time. Root doesn't seem to share the wish.

"People want to kill _us_ out here everyday, Sam," Root replies with a small smirk. "We're still here."

" _We're_ not _thirteen_ ," Shaw responds flatly. Nodding at Root, the two stand together, firing as cover for the other as they advance on the enemy.

"That's not my point," Root insists over the sound of bullets whizzing past and the shock of constant recoils. "What I'm saying is that we _look_ for trouble and live. She's a smart kid. She'll keep her head down, and no one will mess with her. _Especially_ if she's in a group. Did you _really_ expect her to coop herself up in our apartment for _two_ months?" Shaw dodges out of the way, a bullet nearly grazing her ear as it singes her hair and distorts her hearing.

"No," Shaw answers, the sound of her voice slightly muddied to herself. "But I was thinking about keeping a tail on her." Shaw aims, fires, and takes another Samaritan agent out.

"She made you once," Root reminds her, taking down an agent of her own. "She'll do it again."

Shaw, sneer tugging onto her features, fires, only to find her gun empty. Swearing under her breath, Shaw grabs Root's forearm, pulling her into a narrow doorway of the side street just as a bullet soars past where Root's head was moments before. Pressing Root's back to the wall, Shaw keeps herself close as well, concealing them as much as possible in the small space. She can feel Root's breath atop her head, and upon looking up, finds Root's affectionate eyes spilling over, a sly grin growing on her features.

"Now might not be the _best_ time, Sweetie," Root coos, and Shaw presses her lips together in a humorless line.

"I'm out of ammo," Shaw hisses, ears growing hot. Root tilts her head to the side in playful condescension.

"You don't need to find an _excuse_ for _me_ ," Root assures her lovingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Shaw's ear. The touch sends an electric bolt surging through Shaw, and Root's soft breath against her face leaves Shaw's mind wandering back to the apartment. Shaw has half a mind to push Root away to clear her head, but knows as soon as she does, she'll be open to gun fire. It's a sticky situation, and her lack of options only adds to her fluster. It doesn't help when Root leans in, their noses nearly touching.

"Root. The mission." Shaw intones choppily, eyes burning into Root's. Her vision is filled with Root's vibrant gaze and blissful smile and slightly askew hair. It leaves her heart kicking just a little faster.

"Sameen?" Root utters in a quiet voice. Shaw doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Doesn't breathe. "Duck." Without a second's hesitation, Shaw drops to her hands and knees, peering behind her just as Root fires three rounds into a woman's chest. She crumples without so much as a twitch.

Silence.

Waiting a moment more, Shaw stands, then slowly slinks out from their hiding place, checking either end of the street with Root close behind. Shaw's phone pings, and retrieving it, she sees Gen's number flashing on the screen. Swiping the cell unlocked, Shaw quickly scans over the message, all the while Root disappears in search of their hiding number.

**Gen: Hey, Shaw! Is it okay if one of my friends stays at your apartment until their mom comes for them at five?**

Shaw, starting to walk in the direction she's nearly certain Root started for, types back a reply.

**Me: This friend have a name?**

Pause. Ping.

**Gen: Derek Hanner**

**Me: When are you getting back to the apartment?**

**Gen: Twenty minutes. Thanks Shaw!**

Shaw has half a mind to reply that she never said ' _yes_ ,' but stops when she hears a shriek from around the corner. Stowing the cell away, Shaw rounds the edge of the street to find Root holding a squirming woman by the upper arm, eyes dark and tight bun riddled with curls set on breaking free.

"Who the hell _are_ you people?" She grumbles amidst her flailing.

"Concerned third party," Shaw replies flatly. "Can you tell me why anyone would want to kill you? Leak any information; have any unpopular ideas?" The woman's blue eyes widen, and she lessens her struggle.

"I just- I'm just a data entry specialist, I- I don't do anything. I'm not all that important." Her briefcase rattles against her legs as her tan knuckles go white with the force of clasping it.

"Who do you work for?" Shaw asks. This was not in her file, something that sent up quite the red flag between their team.

"Th- Thornhill Utilities. But I just, I just type random strings of code- code I don't even _understand_ \- into a computer everyday. It pays good. What does this have to do with those- those _people_?" Root and Shaw look at each other, a conversation crossing their eyes.

"We need to get you out of here. Now," Root tells her, already walking the woman down the street. Taking the briefcase from her, Root tosses it into the street, where a taxicab runs it over almost instantly. The woman shrieks once more.

"That's everything I have for _work_!" She bellows with mortification.

"You're retiring early," Root informs her tactlessly. Shaw quickens her strides, coming to the woman's other side and keeping her eyes open for any more agents. This has been happening more and more often. Samaritan has been closing in steadily, and seems to have forged a link between the Machine and Thornhill, running six workers into the ground this week alone.

"Take the seven train," Shaw tells her, running through the escape plan they'd comprised for all the workers. New name, new state, new company, same intent. "Get off in Newark, ask for Seward, tell him a Mr. Dowitcher sent you."

"I have a cat at my apartment," she tells Shaw, a daze in her voice as she succumbs to shock. _Only another block to go,_ Shaw thinks to herself, hearing the screeching of tires behind her, and shouts of _'Where are they?'_ and _'Do you see anyone?'_

"We'll take care of it," Root assures her, and they take a quick turn, the bus stop standing before them like the pearly gates, a bus laying in wait to take this poor woman to salvation.

_________\ Bringing Home a Boy /_________

"Okay, this is it," Gen tells Derek as they stop before the apartment door. Gen can feel a tick of nervousness at bringing him here- _a major rule of espionage is to never bring anyone to your home base_ \- but a deep resolve within her says she can trust him. With years trusting only herself, she's learned that there are people out there worth trusting. _Like Shaw. Like Root. Like Derek._

"Thanks again for letting me hang," he tells her with a shy smile, dark eyes timid and grateful. She looks him over- his baggy jeans with holes run through the knees, baggy t-shirt, and shark tooth necklace resting against his midnight skin- and smiles. He looks so different from the crisp khaki'ed boy she met on the school field trip. _He looks like himself._

"No problem." She places her hand on the doorknob, and it turns easily, much to her surprise. Pushing it open with an air of caution, she is relieved to see Root and Shaw's keys on the hall table, knowing they're home and waiting.

"Sick place," Derek whistles out, eyes poking into the kitchen and dining room. "So you live here during the summer and all? With your- your like, moms? Your kind of moms?"

" _Mhmm_ ," Gen responds, eyes in search of the two. _Where are they?_ She stops in the hall, letting Derek pass, before circling back to the kitchen, walking through to press her ear to the bedroom door. _I swear, I told them twenty minutes, and they better not be-_

"GENNY."

Gen's stomach plummets with the mortification in his voice, and she dashes through the apartment, heart throbbing in her throat. _He sounds horrified, what could make him sound so-_

Gen stops at the doorway to the living room, Derek only a few feet away, skin sheet white and eyes dilated to the point of near rupture. _And_ , Gen thinks to herself with an antagonized groan, _for good reason._

Sameen Shaw sits on the plush sofa, high heeled boot up on the coffee table with the barrel of a 300 Winchester Magnum bolt action resting on her knee. She has it partially broken down, white cloth stained black as she cleans the gunpowder from its compartments before snapping the pieces back together. With each harrowing click, Derek flinches. Shaw runs the rag down the length of the gun and back, extending toned arms that could snap a tree trunk like a tooth pick, before lifting the rifle to her shoulder, eye lining up with the scope. She breathes on the lens, wipes it, then looks again. Gen's gaze tugs to the right, where she finds Root settled against the armrest, black fingernails scraping along the hard plastic of what looks like a small black box. She pulls at something on the bottom, twists something on the side, then flicks a small switch. Pressing her thumb down, a thick zapping echoes through the room, the mere sound painful, and a hot blue bolt surges across two metallic prongs. In the dangerous light it brings, Root's features curl up with a devilishly content grin. Then, on the couch’s backrest, a black cat Gen’s never seen before curls up in the sun.

"Shaw... Root..." Gen starts slowly, taking a step into the room. The two look to her at once, both wearing innocently warm smiles. "What are you doing..?"

"Have to clean up after every job," Shaw responds casually, swinging the rifle left to right. Derek stumbles back, a gurgling noise like a nervous cough lodges itself in his throat. Root presses down on the taser once more, and another bolt of blue crackles to life. Derek turns green.

"Genny, what do your parents do for a living?" He asks shakily, eyes never leaving the women- never leaving the rifle.

"We-"

"They're stunt doubles," Gen blurts out quickly, cutting Root off with force. Gen's eyes sear into theirs, but neither seem to mind. "For all those big movies. Sometimes _they get carried away._ "

"You know what's fun about what we do?" Root asks him with a cool calculation in her voice that could make a grown man crumble. Slowly, and without breathing, Derek shakes his head.

"Everything we use is _real_ ," Shaw finishes, snapping the down the rifle's monopod.

"They're kidding," Gen adds quickly, gaze frosty and face hot with embarrassment. "They like to scare people. It might be why they _never have many guests over._ " Gen's voice is clipped with frustration, and she's barely able to swallow the angered bellows that tear at her throat.

"Can- can I use... the bathroom?" Derek asks, a lightness in voice like he might faint.

"Of course," Gen responds, grabbing his arms and gently steering him from the room. Her eyes are kind on his, but each time she glances at Root and Shaw, they harden with malice. "It's down the hall on the left." He hobbles down, then rushes with large strides, then nearly trips over himself as he dashes to the nearest door, slamming it behind him. Gen doesn't wait around to listen for vomit. Instead, she storms back into the living room to see Shaw breaking down the rifle and Root stowing the taser in her back pocket.

"Was that even _remotely_ necessary?" Gen all but yells, hands on her hips and eyes livid. Shaw peers up at her with a clever smirk before placing the last component in its case and latching it shut.

"We're just making sure he gets the message," Shaw tells her modestly, and Gen's jaw nearly drops.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ he _got_ the _message_ ," she hisses. "And he could have _gotten_ it without- without _that_."

"I thought kids liked guns," Shaw mutters with a shrug, and Gen's eyes widen with exasperation as she turns to Root for aid. Root gives her an apologetic smile and pushes herself up from the couch and towards the girl.

"He seems nice," Root tries, stooping down the slightest bit to look Gen in the eyes. Gen rolls them, shaking her head in irritation. "He's from the all boys school a couple miles from yours, right?"

"Yeah," Gen replies sullenly before getting her second wind. "And now he's _never_ going to talk to me _ever_ again because I'll be the girl with _assassin_ _parents_ ," she seethes.

"The stunt doubles thing was pretty clever," Shaw chimes in, coming to stand by Root. "I think it'll stick." With this, Gen sighs, and her anger washes away with it.

"Can you guys _try_ to act a little more normal around him?" She pleads, working her best set of doe eyes on Shaw. Then, realizing the more efficient option, she turns them on Root. Root tilts her head, looks away, sighs, and turns to Shaw. Now, Root gives Shaw a similar gaze to Gen's, and slowly Shaw begins to crack.

"Quit it, would you," Shaw grumbles to them, rolling her eyes.

"Please, Shaw," Gen begs. " _Please?_ " Shaw closes her eyes, head shaking the slightest bit.

"Fine," she caves, and Gen pumps her fist in victory. "You should probably go check on him," Shaw adds on, placing her hand atop Gen's head and tussling her hair. Gen nods, dashing down the hall. "And Gen?" Shaw calls, giving the girl pause. Shaw can feel the ghost of a smile trying to curl at the edges of her mouth, but forces it away. "Let him know I'm making a _killer_ dinner." Gen's mouth falls agape, eyes growing wide once more.

"That's not even _funny_ , Shaw!"

**Author's Note:**

> I think what I’m going to do is skip around for the next three or so to the more fluffy ones, just because I think the show’s been giving us enough angst lately. Nothing mends the soul like Shoot fluff. Hopefully I’ll be putting a few more out here soon. Thanks for bearing with me, haha.


End file.
